


angel cake

by gotchick



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Barista Lee Jeno, Crushes, Fluff, Jaemin wearing glasses, M/M, Meet-Cute, college student jaemin, jaemin speaking english, nomin, pls help trend nct dream fixed unit on twt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:33:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22235629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gotchick/pseuds/gotchick
Summary: Eye smile by eye smile, Jeno moves into Jaemin's heart.
Relationships: Lee Jeno/Na Jaemin
Comments: 11
Kudos: 123





	angel cake

**Author's Note:**

> not my best work so i'll probably lock it later, but i just wanted to add something small to the nomin tag~  
> the only reasons this piece of word vomit exists is: 1. how hot jaemin looks in glasses 2. how cute he is when he flexes his english lol
> 
> again, im still in the very initial phase of getting to know nct, so please do point out any factual or characterisation inaccuracies i may make to me :3

1.

"Sorry, I’m… straight."

This must be the worst rejection possible of receiving in the history of rejections. The tray in Jeno’s hands quivers dangerously. Jaemin’s eyes dart up and widen, his hands moving towards Jeno’s as if to help him steady it, after just breaking Jeno’s heart into two clean pieces.

Of course, Jaemin probably doesn’t want his icy Americano with 2.5 shots to be spilled all over his papers and attractive outfit; after being confessed to by the creepy gay barista at his favourite coffee shop.

With a great effort, Jeno manages not to drench Jaemin (though an accident might not have been that bad — at least Jaemin would look as humiliated as him). He slams the plastic cup on the table too roughly — not angry, just wanting to get away as fast as possible.

The last glimpse he catches of Jaemin’s face is a mixture of bewilderment and embarrassed apology. At the last minute, Jaemin opens his mouth, seeming about to say something, but Jeno has already rushed away hugging the tray to his chest. His ears are burning.

It’s only when he bolts himself into the staff kitchen that he remembers today’s personalised cardboard sleeve is still right there, on Jaemin’s sweating cup.

There’s literally nothing else on the piece of cardboard except Jaemin’s name in Jeno’s writing, and a hand-drawn emoji; but for some reason, this is the straw that breaks the camel’s back.

Renjun clears his throat from where he’s standing at the dishwasher, and Jeno realises he’s not alone. Renjun takes off his headphones and soapy gloves, wiping his hands on his apron. Jeno rips off his own apron, and resumes hitting his head methodically with the tray he hasn’t let go of.

This makes Renjun approach him with concern.

"Hey, what happened out there?"

"Renjun,” Jeno whimpers, crumpling his apron up, “Can you please, please go out and take the rest of my shift? I’ll handle all the dishes and cups, I promise."

At that moment, Haechan’s inimitable holler drifts into the kitchen from the front counter, laced with silky threat.

"Lee Jeno, you’re needed!"

Renjun shoots him a flustered, harassed look, but doesn’t refuse as he tidies his sweat-matted hair in the small mirror by the swinging door. Haechan’s face suddenly pops up in the window of the door, and Renjun almost jumps out of his skin.

"I’m all alone out here!” Haechan whisper-yells dramatically, pointing a menacing finger in at Jeno. Renjun quickly bustles out, nudging Haechan away helpfully, murmuring some explanation to him.

Once alone, Jeno slumps back against the whooshing dishwasher. His face is still warm when he covers it with both hands and digs the heels of his palms into his eyes. Is Jaemin still out there, or has he left, uncomfortably? Jeno wants to peep through the window, but doesn’t dare.

Nah — he probably won’t ever see his favourite customer again. Since Jaemin had started being a regular at their cafe, a month ago, he thought they were getting to know each other pretty well.

Apparently that had been all one-sided on his part.

The very first time he saw Jaemin is still etched in Jeno’s mind — how the lanky college student with wire-rimmed glasses and a ream of English textbooks had stepped into their front door, and Jeno was gone.

On that first afternoon, though he couldn’t stop shamelessly stealing glances while working; he hadn’t had the guts to make Jaemin look in his direction.

Until Mark — who was sharing the shift with him that day — effortlessly struck up a conversation, in English no less, with the most gorgeous stranger Jeno had ever seen. When Jeno’s ears were blessed by how sexy the guy sounded speaking English — Mark was a _peasant_ compared to him — that officially sealed the deal.

He had a raging crush.

It didn’t matter that the boy stayed for two hours, seriously doing his homework — when he left, he still hadn’t noticed Jeno a single time.

It felt like his heart was wilting when the guy — _Jaemin_ , Jeno had heard from his eavesdropping on Mark’s chat — stood up, toted his tray to the garbage bin, then slung his bag over his shoulder and left quietly.

He might’ve given up, then. But — the next day, his stomach leaped into his throat when a familiar face materialised in their doorway, walking into the cafe with a small smile lacing his lips.

This time, Mark wasn’t around, and Jeno was the only one minding the counter. He didn’t have anybody to hide behind, or ask to take the hottie’s order while he bolted to the back room.

The last words he had expected to hear first from the stranger were: “Working again today?"

"I saw you yesterday,” Jaemin had explained, when he was too dumbstruck to reply. He looked a bit embarrassed, and Jeno quickly took his order on autopilot, stuttering.

He got the order wrong, his head a mess, but Jaemin didn’t seem to mind. Jeno’s hands were sweaty as he wrote the name he’d been thinking of since yesterday on the cup holder, wanting to tag on a smiley face at the end but not daring to. Which was ridiculous because he usually added smiley faces for everybody.

Jaemin had laughed when he botched the order, like it was cute. He adamantly refused Jeno’s offer to remake the drink, and settled into a corner table to spread out his essays and course books again. Jeno noticed a pretty thick English novel sticking out of his backpack, and felt a kick in the gut at this for some reason.

After an hour, he had screwed up the immense courage needed to carefully walk up to Jaemin’s table, carrying a slice of the cafe’s most popular angel cake. He hovered by the edge, shyly, until Jaemin looked up, a questioning smile tugging at his lips when he saw Jeno.

"I, uh, sorry for the mistake with your order just now,” Jeno stammered, practically dropping the plate on Jaemin’s table before whirling around and brisk-walking away. For the rest of the shift, he studiedly didn’t look in Jaemin’s direction, but another hour later it was impossible not to feel it acutely in all his senses that Jaemin was walking up.

"Thanks — the cake was really good, though you didn’t have to,” Jaemin said in the smooth drawl Jeno was falling hard for, with the smile that reached his eyes.

Jaemin’s eyes moved down from his face to his chest, slowly, and his heart almost stopped. Could it be?

But Jaemin just tilted his head a little to read Jeno’s name tag, then met his eyes again. “Jeno,” he said, crinkle-eyed, and Jeno died a little inside.

In the following weeks, Jaemin would make his wildest dreams come true by proceeding to faithfully visit the cafe at the same time every few days, on his way home from school. He would spend hours finishing up his homework, eyes narrowed with concentration behind his spectacles as Jeno screwed up order after order just losing himself in dazes of admiration.

Haechan was threatening to fire him every few drinks, and Mark was shooting him dirty looks for being totally useless. Renjun was running back and forth from the kitchen quietly picking up the dirty cups Jeno was supposed to help him carry in.

Jeno was in heaven.

Part of the reason he was on Haechan’s shitlist now was that Jaemin kept ordering Americanos with 2.5 shots, a drink which didn’t exist in the menu; and Jeno kept wasting a whole half shot — as Haechan ranted — and a ton of time getting the exclusive drink just right.

Mark had chatted with Jaemin a few more times by then, but Jeno didn’t care as long as he didn’t clue Jaemin in on what a train wreck Jeno had become since Jaemin sauntered into his workplace and his life, and how he’d become Jeno’s special customer.

He’d gotten so deep in, so presumptuous and arrogant, all by himself, that he’d gone and confessed on impulse, this very afternoon while delivering Jaemin’s drink to his table.

"Do you have a girlfriend?” was how he’d blurted out the first disastrous words.

When Jaemin shook his head, looking bemused, then asked “Why?” the confession had just tumbled out of Jeno’s mouth, unthinkingly.

"I like you."

A lifetime passed. Jaemin blinked up at him, as if he’d just spoken alien language. Jeno was still holding the tray of melting Americano.

Then, contrition scrawled on his handsome features, Jaemin had spoken the earth-shattering words.

2.

"Sorry, I’m… straight."

The moment the few thoughtless words left his mouth on autopilot, Jaemin regretted.

He’d been confessed to a handful of times in his life thus far… but this is the first guy who’s been brave enough to say those gutsy words.

And… he’s one special boy.

Jeno’s special.

Jaemin is straight. As far as he knows, he’s been straight for nineteen years.

But it’s an equally true fact that for the past month, he’s been returning to this nondescript cafe, again and again; just for one thing — to watch an adorable barista his age making the most endearing blunders; smiling as he loses himself in brewing coffee and designing drinks; his eyes disappearing shyly every time Jaemin makes a stupid joke just to hear his addictive laugh.

He’s been somewhat fascinated with the way Jeno’s so transparent, jumping in a fluster every time Jaemin nears, trying to hide it, then directing the most puppy-like eyes Jaemin has ever seen towards him.

He’s not stupid — though he tried not to let on, for fear of making the other boy feel awkward, he could tell Jeno likes him, for whatever reason. But every time he tried to extend the conversation, get to know the barista better, Jeno would rush away in a nervous tizzy — which was cuter than it had any right to be.

All this — although he still can’t figure out the reason — had piqued Jaemin’s interest, enough for him to keep coming back doggedly every few days.

To be quite honest, he would prefer to show up every day, but upon thinking about it, Jaemin felt that would make him appear a bit pathetic.

So he tried to stay away for days on end, but always finds a gravitational force pulling him back to the same stopover on his way home.

He had not expected to hear these bold words from Jeno’s mouth on a random, sleepy afternoon like this one. It came as a shock that the other boy had apparently wanted to be more than friends with him, this whole time.

So the answer that fell from his lips automatically ended up being the stock rejection he always thought he would use in the off-chance that he received a confession from the same sex.

It’s literally _only as_ he says the words that he realises how completely artificial they are.

But Jeno has already tossed his painstakingly made and hand-delivered Americano down, and disappeared into the back of the cafe, making frustration bubble up in Jaemin’s chest.

Fingers trembling a little, he gingerly touches the cup covered with condensation. It’s icy cold, and he can already taste Jeno’s signature Americano on his tongue — bitter but somehow sweet at the same time.

Jaemin squints at the cardboard sleeve, seeing his name in Jeno’s familiar writing he’s come to recognise, and find quirky. There’s nothing else on it, no message or anything, besides a cheeky emoji. Jaemin wonders if he’d misunderstood Jeno’s confession of like.

Discreetly, he glances towards the counter. There’s a queue forming, and his heart leaps hopefully when the manager calls Jeno’s name with impatience.

But after five minutes of hidden glances, the skinny boy who emerges from the back is distinctly not Jeno.

Where has he gone? Jaemin is suddenly worried.

It takes him some time to muster up the courage to approach the counter, where the manager and the frail, timid looking staff are working together to systematically demolish the queue.

Jaemin peers into the cake display and sees the slice of angel cake Jeno gifted him for free, the second day they met. It’s the cafe’s bestseller, and the most expensive one, he realises.

He’s trying to get a look into the kitchen beyond the display case, when the door opens and Mark appears.

"Hyung!” The manager cries out in relief, and Mark’s attention is stolen before Jaemin can catch his eye. He sighs and gives up staring at the closed kitchen door, joins the tail of the snaking queue.

With Mark joining in, charming the pants off every customer as he smoothly processes the queue, it’s soon Jaemin’s turn.

Mark recognises him and grins broadly.

"Jaemin-ah! Another cup of today’s brew for you?"

Beside him, the manager scowls and whispers something into his ear. Jaemin catches something about being “prissy” and “only drinking special Americanos”, and Mark gives him a laughing look.

Jaemin flushes, feeling like he’s being made the butt of a joke he doesn’t know. He leans over the counter.

"Actually, I was just wondering where Jeno is?"

"He quit,” the manager answers flatly.

"Wasn’t he fired?” The pale, pretty boy pipes up from the side.

The manager shakes his head. “He just texted me he’s quitting like, five minutes ago."

"What?” Jaemin exclaims, louder than he intended. They all stare at him.

Jaemin squirms under the scrutiny but forces out, “Where is he now?"

The manager rolls his eyes. “Duh. Of course he left after quitting."

Looking distressed, he adds to Mark, “Please go wash the dishes, there’s no one in the kitchen now.” He takes out his phone and opens his contacts, sighing. “I’ll have to call somebody to take his place."

Take Jeno’s place? Hold up — Jaemin hadn’t imagined the series of events he had set into motion, just with a stupid sentence he had blurted without using his brain first. For all he knows, Jeno may need this job badly.

"Are you sure he quit?” Jaemin taps the manager’s shoulder gingerly, but the other boy is already on his first call and makes a shushing motion.

Thankfully, the person on the other end of the line refuses the offer. When the manager hangs up, Jaemin immediately says, “I’ll take the job."

"You?” All three of the staff stare at him again in unison with bug eyes.

"Yeah, why not?” Jaemin tries to sound casual. “I needed a part-time job, anyway."

"Jeno works here full-time,” Mark informs him, then corrects himself, “Worked,” at the manager’s look.

It was no wonder that Jaemin had been so lucky to see him every single time he came randomly. He’d taken everything so for granted, that he could waltz in here anytime, forever, and see Jeno’s breathtaking eye smile lighting up the whole cafe. He’s more than certain now he can’t allow Jeno to become jobless on account of him; especially after rebuffing him so insensitively.

"I can get him back,” he promises, faking confidence.

The manager sighs long-sufferingly and glares at him, but shoves his phone into his pocket. “I’ll give you half a day."

In relief, Jaemin makes the ok sign with his fingers and hurries to gather his stuff and leave. On his way out, the other employee stops him.

"How are you going to find him?"

Jaemin shrugs, and he smiles faintly. “I’m his roommate. I’ll text you our address."

"Holy shit,” Jaemin gushes. “Thank you so much."

The boy smiles sweetly, but even before the door closes Jaemin hears him gossiping with the manager behind the counter already.

"Isn’t that Mr 2.5 shots?"

"Yeah, Jeno doesn’t even allow anybody else to make his drinks because he’s paranoid we’ll put milk in by accident."

This is news to Jaemin’s ears. Something in his stomach fluttering, he pushes out of the door, suddenly desperate to see Jeno again.

3.

He follows his phone’s GPS to a modest apartment building in a homely neighbourhood. He’s never pictured Jeno outside of his job, his uniform — how he looks; what he does in his spare time. Now, Jaemin’s heart quickens for unknown reasons as he takes the elevator up to Jeno’s floor.

Drawing a deep breath, Jaemin hesitates before rapping on the door. There’s a sound of flurried movement inside, and faster than he expected, the door flies open and Jeno throws himself headfirst into Jaemin’s arms.

"Renjun!” Jeno wails, then lets go of Jaemin’s shoulders as if electrocuted the moment he realises who it is. Jaemin stares, feeling heat creep into his face, his jaw slack. What relationship does Jeno have with his roommate anyway?

Jeno is gaping at him, equally saucer-eyed. He looks rumpled and smaller than he usually does in the cafe’s long-sleeved uniform shirt that shows off his buff biceps; now wearing an oversized Gundam sweatshirt. Jaemin swallows.

Then Jeno shuts the door abruptly, just as Jaemin gets a glimpse of his all the blood rushing to his face.

"Go away!” He hears the familiar voice sounding pained from behind the door. “Why are you here?"

"You — you quit… because of me?” Jaemin chokes out.

There’s a silence, then Jeno’s wobbly answer. “Don’t flatter yourself. I didn’t want to work there anyway."

"Don’t you need the job?” Jaemin taps the door again. “Can you come out and talk."

"Don’t wanna."

Despite himself, Jaemin rolls his eyes and just bangs louder on the door.

"We haven’t finished our conversation,” he says, and thinks he hears a muffled yelp from inside.

"It’s finished! Just go, okay? I’ll ask for the job back. Just — don’t show up at my work anymore."

Oh, wow. Jaemin’s kind of glad Jeno can’t see him now because he probably looks like he feels — like he’s just been kicked.

It’s become part of his routine to drop by the coffee shop for the past month, and he feels a sense of loss just thinking of not being able to do that anymore.

But he also knows it would be cruel to continue visiting, after he’s hurt Jeno like this. And, if Jeno isn't going to be there, what meaning would there be in him going anyway?

There’s the longest silence. Jeno doesn’t say anything else, but for some reason Jaemin feels like he can hear him breathing on the other side of the door. He’s frustrated, and embarrassed in a way he hasn’t felt in ages.

He forces himself to speak up, answer.

"Okay,” he promises. “But only if you come out and let me see you one last time."

He can hear Jeno’s shock in the ensuing silence. Jaemin covers his face; it’s warm. His breath is bated, heart thudding. He’s so afraid Jeno will plain refuse to see him, ever again.

But then — the door falls open, and Jeno’s standing there. His eyes are pink-rimmed, and Jaemin blurts out, “Did you cry?"

"No,” Jeno growls, glaring at him incredulously, looking about to slam the door again. Before he can do that Jaemin wedges a foot in the doorframe.

Jeno eyes it, twisting his hand in the hem of his sweatshirt. “What do you want."

"I’m sorry,” Jaemin starts, and Jeno interrupts, “You already said that."

Unaware of what he’s doing, Jaemin has grabbed his hand on the door, and tugged him out physically. Jeno’s stronger than him, but so caught off guard that he tumbles out of the house. Jaemin immediately locks their fingers together, making Jeno’s eyes widen as he tries to squirm out of his grip.

"What are you _doing_?"

"You can’t go in until you answer my question,” Jaemin states, attempting to meet his eyes without blushing.

"What question?"

"Why do you like me?"

Jeno shakes his hand off roughly, but doesn’t go back into the house. He glares at Jaemin again — it’s not much of a glare, like a puppy trying to act fierce.

"Why do you want to know?” The vulnerability in his voice makes Jaemin feel like an ogre. “You don’t like me anyway."

"I —“ Jaemin swallows his words. “I just want to know. Please."

"Well.” Jeno looks disarmed by his entreatment. He shrugs, trying to act casual, looking at the ground. “I think you’re hot. Your glasses… and your English."

Instantly self-conscious, Jaemin feels himself pushing his spectacles up, his face emanating heat. He only wears them to see better, but — hot?

"Is — is that all?"

Jeno looks straight into his eyes, his own unreadable. Jaemin notices he has really long eyelashes. _You’re not so bad either_ , he thinks, surprising himself.

"It’s not,” Jeno says after a moment. “I just like… talking to you. I like everything about you.” Then he corrects himself, reddening, “Liked."

"You still like me,” Jaemin states, trying not to let it sound like a question. He smiles, hesitantly. Jeno just stares at him.

"No,” he eventually replies. “I don’t like people who don’t like me.” Jaemin must be going crazy, because the slight petulant tone in his voice sounds adorable.

Even when Jeno’s trying to be all tough, like this — he’s still the most artless person Jaemin has ever met. It’s kind of really charming.

"Maybe I do,” he admits on impulse, making Jeno lose all his moorings.

" _What?_ But — you’re not gay."

"I’m not,” Jaemin tries to smile, chest tight under Jeno’s intense gaze. “But I might be… bi-curious?"

Jeno just continues gawping at him, flabbergasted, shaking his head.

Eventually, he mutters, “Don’t pity me."

This time, it’s Jaemin’s mouth that falls open. His words tumble out. “I’m not!

"It’s just — you’re the cutest person who’s ever confessed to me,” Jaemin owns up, clenching his fists at the cringiness of what he’s saying. “So… I’d like time to think about it, if you don’t mind."

Jeno continues blinking at him, uncomprehending, until a small but irrepressible smile slowly transforms his face.

"You’re not joking, are you?” he asks after a moment, warily.

"Absolutely not,” Jaemin swears. Up close, like this, without the sights and sounds and smells of the cafe around them — Jeno’s presence is intoxicating. He can’t understand how he could have been blind to it before. The other boy is right — there’s this charged current between them, making Jaemin’s head a bit dizzy, like he’s going to fall.

"Oh,” Jeno says. His voice is aloof, but his eyes are bright below downcast lashes, curving into a familiar smile before it reaches his lips. He scuffs his sneakers on the ground, and Jaemin wants to hug him, take his hand again; but only dares to brush his knuckles.

Jeno looks up at him, with an awkward grin.

"You want to come in? I need to call Haechan about the job."

"Sure,” Jaemin answers, eagerly. “Will you make me something to drink? Not Americano this time — something different."

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for your time if you read till the end :)


End file.
